Dragon Pox
by Revan's Pet Duck
Summary: Set in early 2002, a few short years after the end of The Second War, Harry awakes to discover he's contracted Dragon Pox. His friends are stuck with the exciting task of nursing him back to health.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter rolled over onto his side to better itch his back. His eyes were still closed, half-asleep, as he absent-mindedly ran his fingernails along his back. His eyes shot open in pain after mere seconds, however, realizing that this was no ordinary morning itch. He felt along his back, more aware now.

Knowing for sure something was wrong now, he rolled onto his back, sat up, and examined his arms. He stared in astonishment. Not only were his arms covered in obnoxious, sore, red pockmarks, but his skin beneath was also discolored – it was green, a sickly pale greenish tinge on Harry's otherwise fairly ordinarily pale complexion, to be exact.

After a few moments of astonished staring, Harry sneezed. Like everything else this morning, however, it was no ordinary sneeze. His nostrils seemed – no, not just seemed, actually _happened_ – to shoot sparks out. Harry stretched his feet beneath his blankets and a horrible sinking feeling swooped through his body right down to his toes, his toes which happened to feel extraordinarily wrong. He whipped his blankets off, throwing them to the floor and leaving him feeling the chill of the early spring air.

Below were his feet and… they were webbed. Webbed feet. Also covered in the angry pockmarks.

Was he turning into a dragon? Harry fell backwards onto the bed and fought the urge, now that he noticed that his entire body was likely covered in the pockmarks, to itch every surface of his body.

Well, he'd just have to stay in for a few days. He could call in sick to work – it wasn't like he was too fresh at the Auror department anymore and his attendance had been flawless previously. They would forgive him a few days. He was obviously ill.

Harry had read about dragon pox. From what he understood, it was similar to muggle diseases. Dudly had gotten chickenpox when they were young, around seven or so. Harry remembered very vividly Dudley's thrashing and whining and Aunt Petunia's doting on her poor baby. She hadn't even bothered to quarantine Harry, who hadn't gotten chickenpox before. But then, he still hadn't caught them. He thought he must've been resilient.

Then, when Harry figured out he was a wizard and that there was a dragon pox cure, when he eventually wondered if he would ever acquire the disease, he figured his parents would've taken preventive measures when he was a baby. It seemed, however, that his reasoning had been wrong.

Dragon pox. Well, at least he was still young. Harry figured twenty-one was a little old for the disease but had to be better than when he got old eventually.

When he got old eventually… it had been nearly three years since Voldemort had been destroyed and yet the immense sense of liberation Harry had felt after the Dark Lord's fall still lingered. The knowledge that there was no one anymore determined to make his life short-lived, but instead a whole host of people invested in keeping him around for quite some time… it was an incredibly uplifting thought. It was wonderful to know that Ron and Hermione and Ginny were there for him, amongst many others…

Ginny!

Harry made to smack himself, but felt a bit dizzy when he jerked up into a sitting position again, so he simply mentally berated himself. He was supposed to go to dinner with Ginny tonight. Just the two of them. Ever since Ron had proposed to Hermione – which had been mere weeks ago now – he had become much less of a bully when it came to Harry and Ginny wanting to spend time together.

For a few months after the final Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny had sort of avoided one another, not because they wanted to, but because so much had happened and Harry knew that he had needed some time to himself, to think about the potential and the life that had lay ahead of him and still did.

Then, when Harry finally worked up the nerve to ask Ginny out again, Ron had started bullying Harry about the way he had left things with Ginny before. A dozen rows between Ginny and Ron later and nearly a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny had resumed their relationship though it was much different than before. No longer were they school kids – Ginny had finished up at Hogwarts and Harry had been in the midst of his exams to become an Auror. They had been through a war. They had both lost a lot.

These days their time together was not plentiful. Though the wizarding world was much more peaceful than it had been most of Harry's life, work as an Auror was not glamorous – it was hard, even if Harry didn't dare regret his decision to pursue this career choice. More than Harry's demands at his day job, Ginny was now flying with the Holyhead Harpies. She was away at games constantly and had practices any night she didn't have games.

Tonight had been one of the rare nights she was actually free and she and Harry had made plans to finally spend time together. Since resuming their relationship, either Ginny was bombarded with her family or Ron was trying purposefully to keep Harry from potentially hurting his sister again, even when Harry assured Ron he had no intentions.

Now that Ron spent most of his time away from his and Harry's shared flat in London, too Harry had been thrilled that he might have the space entirely for himself and Ginny. But his health seemed to have other designs…

Harry sighed, which turned into a violent coughing fit, which concluded in a series of sparkling sneezes. He shivered. Without his blankets, now, he felt naked in the arctic. He leaned over his bed with immense effort and dragged his blankets back onto him. This small amount of effort exhausted him. But he couldn't go back to sleep yet.

"Gunhilda," Harry called hoarsely. Nothing – no response. "Gunhilda!" he called again, croaking, but more loudly.

A fluttering of wings answered him. A handsome great grey owl swooped into the bedroom. Gunhilda situated herself next to Harry on his night table and stared at him curiously, as if wondering if her owner were still her owner, considering his wildly different appearance.

"Gunhilda, I need you to bring a letter into the Ministry of Magic for me, please," Harry said, sitting up and pulling a quill, ink bottle, and parchment from beside Gunhilda onto his lap. He quickly wrote out a note explaining his absence and saying he wasn't sure how long he'd need to stay home.

He finished slowly, dropped the inkbottle, cursed, and tied the letter to Gunhilda's leg rather clumsily. She gave him a sympathetic hoot. Harry gave her a pat and then she hopped off the table and out his door to an open window in the hallway.

Harry grabbed for his wand and cleaned up the inky mess he'd created. Exhausted from all the effort he had exerted in the past few minutes, he set his wand down gingerly and rolled onto his side, curling into an uncomfortable ball, though warm.

He started to wonder if he might have enough energy to concoct some potions to minimize the itching before he fell back asleep, his thoughts drifting to Ginny, wondering what fate was trying to say, assigning him this disease the first time he'd see her in weeks…


	2. Chapter 2

Harry awoke of his own free will a couple hours later – late morning, he figured by the bright light spilling into his bedroom. A glance to his bedside clock confirmed his suspicions.

He felt his stomach rumble. Starting to wonder whether he had the energy to get up, or what even he could eat when sick with dragon pox, Harry was about to attempt to stand up when he heard the door to the flat open and close. He braved sitting up, looking puzzled towards the direction of the sound.

"Harry?" called a soft voice.

"In here, Hermione," he called back. His voice sounded even weaker than earlier.

Hermione came bustling into the room, her traveling cloak still on and her cheeks pink from the chilly early spring air. She glanced at Harry and instantly squeaked.

"Yeah, it looks quite awful, doesn't it?" Harry said plaintively.

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione threw down her traveling cloak on a chair by Harry's bedroom door and grabbed for another chair to pull up to his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

Harry sighed and, with great effort, shrugged. "Tired. Itchy. Like my skin is green and disgusting." He smirked and Hermione couldn't help but smile in response.

"I can't believe you hadn't been immunized," Hermione began.

"Wait," Harry interrupted her. "You were raised by muggles too. Should you be here? Isn't this contagious?"

Hermione gave her an exasperated look. "Harry, you do know me, right? Do you think I would have ventured into the magical world full throttle if I hadn't taken the proper precautions?"

Harry looked back at her, blinking. Of course she would have gotten immunizations after getting her Hogwarts letter. He figured he probably did it before she even went school shopping. How like Hermione to be that prepared.

"Anyway, Ron mentioned that you were ill and since he's going through his Auror training right now it wouldn't be prudent for him to take time off, but I thought, and he agreed, that someone ought to come see you," Hermione plowed on as she pulled out her beaded bag. Incredible, Harry thought, that she still had it after all this time but considering how practical it was, he shouldn't be so surprised.

"Well, that's kind of the pair of you," Harry murmured with an involuntary glimpse toward Hermione's left hand. He had to admit that despite having expected Ron and Hermione to get together since they were all fourteen or so, he was still coming to terms with the fact that they were actually planning to get married.

Hermione didn't miss Harry's gaze and he didn't even try to hide it once he realized what he was doing. Hermione's cheeks, which had been losing their pinkishness now that she was indoors, deepened in color again.

"I still can't believe it myself," she said, almost as if she were reading Harry's mind. She set her beaded bag on her lap and looked wistfully at Harry. "Who'd have thought it, right?"

Harry gave a weak smile at her. He wondered how bizarre he must look, green, pockmarked, but smiling. "Anyone who knows you two would have," he croaked, and then coughed violently and sneezed some more sparks. Hermione leaned back, slightly alarmed. Harry couldn't help but laugh at her response, which caused him to sneeze again and then Hermione laughed too. They both laughed, Harry sneezing occasionally, which caused them to laugh harder, for a full minute or two before they calmed down, Hermione with some tears in her eyes from the laughter.

She wiped them away, saying, "You know, I've never seen anyone with dragon pox and I know it's a serious illness, but maybe because you seem you're doing so well, I just find it rather funny." She laughed again, but quietly and it faded away more quickly this time.

"Part of me wants to look in a mirror to see how ridiculous I look but part of me never wants to know. Maybe you or Ron can take some photos and then in a couple months it'll be far enough in the past I can watch," Harry suggested.

Hermione nodded, grinning still, while she opened the beaded bag and dug inside. "I'll tell Ron he ought to – he's the one with a camera and I've never quite bothered to figure out the potion solution for developing wizard photos. Granted, he's keen on trying out one of those muggle digital cameras. I tell him it's useless since we don't have a computer and can't with all the magic going on in our lives, but he's growing more like his father with his newfound muggle obsession."

Harry laughed. "That's what he gets for falling for a muggle-born girl, I suppose."

Hermione gave him a look before turning back to the bag. "I never told him he had to learn anything muggle – in fact, I'm perfectly happy conforming entirely to wizard ways. It's not like I haven't been living in the wizarding world half of my life now or anything…"

She drifted off her muttering and Harry watched her for a few moments as she dug deeper into the beaded bag. Apparently things got knocked around quite a bit, or maybe Hermione was being too much of a pack rat, but whatever she was looking for was taking an awfully long time. Harry's mind drifted back to what she had said. Half of her life… it had been nearly half of his life too then that he had spent in the wizarding world. It had been nearly half his life ago that he had learned the truth about his parents, that he had heard the name Voldemort for the first time, that he had met Ron and Hermione… and so much had happened.

Harry had drifted off and only realized when Hermione delicately prodded his shoulder that she had found her quarry.

"I concocted some anti-itching potion – very simple stuff – but I figured you might be too out of it to do it yourself," Hermione said, holding out a bottle filled with a milky white, mostly opaque potion. Harry took it from her, opened it, and was pleasantly surprised at the lack of smell.

"Oh thank Merlin," he muttered. "I worried it would smell awful and I'd have to stink like a ghoul throughout this entire ordeal." He dipped his finger into the bottle and began rubbing it into his arms, which itched the most. They immediately felt soothed, much calmer than before.

"I was grateful while making it too," Hermione added, closing the beaded bag and setting it down beside her on the floor. "Granted, given some more time I'd be happy to come up with a potion that will actually help speed along the healing process. I spent the morning looking some up. I admit, it's kind of nice not working for a while. I've got so much time for everything else I want to do."

Harry smiled and shook his head lightly at her. Hermione would probably be spending all of her time in the Hogwarts library if she could, but he figured she'd have to content herself for other libraries at the moment. It was odd, though, that she wasn't working. Ron and Harry had been trying to convince her to work at the Ministry now that she had gotten her N.E.W.T.s and hadn't found initial success pursuing S.P.E.W., but she was still hesitant to give in and work for the Ministry, despite all the good that had happened there over the past few years. Harry had a feeling she wouldn't hold out too much longer, though.

"I really appreciate it, Hermione," Harry continued as he lathered the potion onto his legs. "Would you mind giving me a hand, though? If I take off my shirt, will you not be too grossed out and could you put it on my back? It feels awful."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine it's grosser than the rest of you right now, Harry." She helped him tug off his shirt and he practically sighed with relief as she put the potion all over. It felt so cool against his achingly hot back. He lathered his chest and stomach up in the meantime.

Soon enough, the itchiest parts of Harry were covered and the potion had dried a bit against his skin, so he put his shirt back on. The bottle still had a fair amount of potion left in it and Hermione set it on his bedside table next to the quill, ink bottle, clock, and other assorted items.

"How do you feel now?" she asked Harry.

"So much better," he answered. He leaned back into his pillow, which had been propped up against his backboard. "Thank you so much Hermione. You're the absolute best."

She beamed at him. "It's no problem. Your skin looks a lot less green with this, too," she added. "Still all weirdly bumpy though." Harry shot her a mock threatening look and Hermione giggled. "Whatever – it's true."

"Fair enough," Harry murmured. His stomach added a loud rumble.

Hermione looked from his stomach to his face. "Have you eaten yet today?"

Harry shook his head. "I've been sleeping pretty much all day, save sending Gunhilda into work for me."

Hermione sighed. "I have a feeling you won't eat if I don't feed you. Ron won't be back for hours and Ginny won't be in until late. I hate being assigned the girly thing, but I guess it's my job to cook for you – I don't want to let you starve."

Harry yawned, which spawned another set of sparking sneezes and a few choice coughs. The potion-applying had exhausted him considerably. "I'd really appreciate if you would avoid letting me starve. And I promise to pay you back by cooking for you sometime when you're sick."

Hermione smiled. "I doubt Ron would let you – he can be absolutely doting sometimes." Her eyes were oddly, but unsurprisingly soft, at the mention of her fiancée.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just because the two of you are my best friends doesn't mean I need to know the details."

Hermione gave him a somewhat scornful look. "Well fine then," she said shortly. "Then I ought not to pass word along to Ginny the state of you because you'd rather not get meddled in other people's relationships or have your own meddled in? Because I thought she ought to know." Hermione stood up and headed towards the door, Harry figured in the direction of the small kitchen/dining/common space Harry and Ron's flat had.

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry shouted after her, sitting up with effort. He coughed loudly several times and fell back onto his bed.

"Give me a minute and we can talk all you want about me, Ron, you, Ginny, whatever you like or not," Hermione yelled back, losing her air of snippiness considerably but not completely.

Harry waited, eyes closed but trying to stay awake and alert, as he heard Hermione moving about in the kitchen. Her cooking had improved considerably in the past few years – all of their cooking had, considering they now lived on their own without house-elves or families. Harry had decided to ask Kreacher to stay either at 12 Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts kitchens. After the war had ended, he had felt all the loss and grief over Sirius, over Dumbledore, over Lupin and Tonks and Dobby and Hedwig and Fred and so many others that it seemed even the slightest reminder beyond those he needed to stay close to, such as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, had been incredibly difficult. Kreacher didn't seem to mind incredibly much. Harry still hoped to perhaps inhabit 12 Grimmauld Place one day, maybe when it would be transformed from the damp darkness it had been in his experiences there, maybe when it wouldn't be Sirius' prison anymore.

Eventually, the smell of cooking food wafted into the bedroom and Hermione came in a few minutes later with a plate covered in eggs, toast, bacon, and some sausages.

"Luckily, you and Ron seem to actually spend some time shopping, so you had good food to cook with," she said, setting the plate down on Harry's bed next to his legs and a goblet of pumpkin juice on the bedside table.

"Ron?" Harry guffawed and then bit hungrily into one of the sausages. He chewed, swallowed, and then added, "Ron never does any of the shopping. He's hardly here anymore anyways – he's always over at your place. I'm the one that gets anything done around here."

Hermione shrugged. "He's not around with me much either, really. As I'm sure you know, Auror training takes a lot of work and a long time."

Harry scarfed down most of the contents of the plate Hermione had made for him rather quickly. Hermione watched him somewhat disconcerted and rolled her eyes when he paused to take a long gulp of his pumpkin juice.

"What?" Harry asked her after setting the goblet down.

"You and Ron still eat like starving teenage boys," she replied. "It's kind of disgusting. I'm glad he's at least learned to swallow before speaking now though."

Harry gave her a look and they both burst out laughing.

"Eugh, Harry! I didn't mean anything like _that_!" Hermione yelled, hitting Harry in the arm and blushing scarlet.

"For such a bright witch, you need to work on your phrasing sometimes," Harry said, still chuckling, but also rubbing his arm where Hermione hit him. "Also, can you not hit the sickly guy so hard next time?"

Hermione gave him a half-apologetic look. Then, the said slyly, "I'll leave that to Ginny when she gets back."

Harry gave Hermione an incredulous look. "Why, Ms. Granger," he said with mocked innocence, "whatever could you mean by that?"

They looked at each other for a split second before they both burst out laughing again, which of course concluded in Harry sneezing and coughing some more. When the laughter died down, Harry finished off Hermione's plate of food while they sat in silence.

"You are looking forward to her being back, right?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence as Harry finished the last piece of toast.

Harry looked at her in confusion. "Of course I am, though I am a bit disappointed I'm sick and can hardly stay awake much less go out," he said. He watched Hermione for a few moments. "Why in Merlin's name would you think otherwise?"

Hermione looked around uncomfortably. "No real reason – I just know you and Ginny have been apart a lot recently and I know… well, she's a bit nervous to come visit. Considering how rarely she managed to be around, I think you can understand her fear you might, you know, move on or something." Hermione trailed off under the look Harry was giving her.

"Ginny should know me better than that by now," he said firmly. He set his empty plate next to the empty goblet of pumpkin juice and let a few tense seconds pass before he continued. "Thank you, Hermione, for the potion, for the food, for checking in. And I would be incredibly appreciative if you would make good on owling Ginny and letting her know the state I'm in and that I'd still love to see her and have her come round, if she's up for it."

His voice was still slightly cool and Hermione was biting her lip. "Harry," she started tentatively, but Harry cut her off.

"I'm feeling pretty exhausted, actually," he said. "This is a pretty serious disease even if I'm at a resilient age and have your expertise on my side," he added in the hopes that showing his appreciation for her help might warm the chilliness that had suddenly arisen and had nothing to do with the weather.

"Sure – it's not a problem," Hermione said with a small smile. "Rest up, Harry. Ron'll check in on you when he's out of work, probably make you a grand dinner of some sort. And if Ginny pops by here first, give her my love, all right?" She stood up and moved towards the door and her traveling cloak, but paused as she picked it up.

"Harry," she continued and he looked up at her. She was smiling a bit more sadly now. "I just want you to know that I'm still here for you whenever you need. Ron too." It was as if his unspoken, even unthought fears were being addressed. "Nothing will change, not between us as friends."

Harry gave her an appreciative smile and kept his eyes open just long enough to watch her put on her cloak and walk out the door. He fell asleep even before he could hear the front door open and close again.

xxx

Author's Notes: I was originally not planning to do any author's notes, but I wanted to say thanks to everyone who's following, the couple who've reviewed, and those who've already added this as one of their favorites. I really don't have time right now to write this fic (I'm finishing up undergrad at the moment and, honestly, this is my first foray into fan fiction in like 4+ years) so I appreciate that I'm not the only one really enjoying this. This fic idea has been in my head for months, actually, but I had to write it eventually and there's no time like the present.

Also, for those of you following, you might want to know what you're in for – this probably won't be a very long fic. I'm planning two more chapters at the moment and will probably end there, although I might be tempted to add more. I'm hoping updates will continue to be quick, but it's really anybody's guess because my schedule is all over the place and super busy right now.

Thanks again for your time – goddamn I'm feeling old though (it's almost been a decade since I started the books). I made a Harry Potter joke reference to a bunch of high schoolers earlier and no one laughed. So I hope everyone reading is at all different parts and ages with their relationship with Harry. Right now, I'm completing another journey with him – I'm in the final chapters of Deathly Hallows again, slowly rereading yet again.

Okay, this is a friggin lot of author's notes so I'm done and will probably write either no more ever or very short ones in the future. Outz.


	3. Chapter 3

"Bloody hell," murmured a distant voice, surely far away from where Harry lay, just beginning to wake up, groggy from the darkness that signified evening.

Ron Weasley was inches away from Harry's face and as Harry began coughing himself awake, Ron jumped back away from his best friend. Harry coughed out the fit, completing it with the sneezes he was so used to already even after less than a day of dragon pox, and was extremely relieved when Ron passed him a warm cup of tea. It felt incredibly soothing as Harry drank it thirstily.

"Thanks," he sighed, putting down the cup onto his night table. Ron grinned appreciatively at him.

"You look awful, Harry," he pointed out.

"I feel awful," muttered Harry, clutching his head. He had sat up too quickly and the warm tea hadn't helped his dizziness. "I can't believe I have dragon pox," he admitted.

"I almost didn't believe it myself," said Ron with a shrug. He sat down on the bed next to Harry, rather than situating himself on a chair. It was clear he had been back at their flat for some time by now – his travel cloak was nowhere to be seen and he had clearly changed his clothes into jeans and a jumper – Harry doubted he would've gone to work dressed like that.

Harry closed his eyes, but he wasn't tired anymore. He had slept most of the day and he was starting to get that restless feeling that came during illness. His feet twitched under the blankets and he felt the webbing between his toes again. It sent a weird chill up his spine.

"So few wizards are susceptible to it anymore, since we've been getting the cure as kids for generations… or, as Hermione says, getting 'immunized,' whatever muggle thing that means," Ron continued, picking up Harry's glasses from the bedside table. He handed them over and Harry put them on without opening his eyes.

"Muggle babies get shots," said Harry.

"Shots? What in Merlin's name are shots?" Ron blurted out, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Harry resisted the urge to laugh long enough for Ron's face to calm a bit. "Wait… is that where muggles get poked with needles and stuff gets shoved into them?"

Harry nodded. "That's disgusting," said Ron, sticking his tongue out and pulling a face. "I'll take potions and spells anyday."

"Yeah, if only there was something to fix this," grumbled Harry.

"Oh, that reminds me," replied Ron and Harry heard him dig into his pocket. He opened his eyes slowly and saw a flask in Ron's hand.

"What, are you going to get me drunk? Is that how to heal wizard illness?" Harry balked.

"Merlin, I wish," answered Ron as he opened the flask up and handed it over to Harry. "Nah, this is the potion Hermione started working on earlier – it's not a cure or anything like it, but apparently it makes the symptoms more manageable and hopefully will make the disease last less long."

Harry took the flask tentatively. "How long does dragon pox normally last for?"

Ron shrugged. "It really varies. I've got no idea myself, since it's become pretty rare these days. It used to commonly last like a month or something but I think with all the stuff that's been developed it's likely half that long or maybe even less now."

Harry sighed. "Great – I've got to feel and look like this for weeks."

Ron laughed and Harry shot him a look. "No, not that," Ron protested. "I was just thinking how at least you don't have to look like this forever. At least normally you're a pretty decent looking chap."

Harry gave him a more bemused look and Ron laughed again. "Hey – at least you never had Eloise Midgen's acne."

"I hear she's become quite a looker since Hogwarts," Harry countered. "Ginny had mentioned that she's been attracting all sorts of admirers."

Ron looked incredulous. "I suppose everyone's got to have their day. Ginny would know all about admirers though – especially since she's now gracing all sorts of flying magazines and the like." Ron looked slightly awkwardly away from Harry and Harry felt the old tension that came between them when it came to Ginny returning.

Harry reached for the tea and sipped at it while staring down the bed, away from Ron. He felt like Ron sometimes changed his mood on Harry and Ginny's relationship from day to day, even after his and Hermione's engagement. And even though Harry denied that Ron had any power over his relationship with Ginny, Ron's feelings did affect his own. Ron _was_ his best friend and Harry knew he could never fully count out his opinions.

They sat in silence together for a few moments but Harry could sense he wasn't the only one getting lost in his thoughts. The tension seemed to abide somewhat as the silence became more natural, each of the best friends fine with being physically together but mentally apart. It was the mark of ten years of friendship that the details didn't really matter anymore. Their fights were a thing of the past.

Harry hadn't felt completely that way the past few years. He and Ron had actually had quite a row less than a year after Voldemort had been destroyed. But then again, that had been the row that they had really come to understand each other, on some level. Never before had either of them been mature enough to really discuss what was wrong but they were adults, adults much sooner than either of them had probably expected, and it had been important that they had owned up to that.

Harry remembered it very clearly, expressing for the first time aloud his fear of, no longer having his clear mission of finishing Hogwarts or defeating Voldemort, that he wasn't sure he could accomplish the "smaller" things that mattered so much more – being with Ginny, becoming an Auror, flying, traveling, being with his friends. Ron, whom Harry had realized then had felt this way his entire life, could finally truly sympathize with his best friend. It wasn't really until then that Harry had realized that they'd only had the smaller things in common before. But now, Harry was glad they'd had that one grand discussion. He never wanted another one – it felt too vulnerable, and weird with someone he was supposed to be as close with as Ron – but it had healed some wounds he hadn't known were there.

And it had made Harry see Ron anew. He'd always thought he understood Ron's insecurities, his need to prove himself and be special in some way, in _any_ way, but he hadn't until Harry himself felt ordinary – not that he'd ever truly be. He'd always be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, but he knew none of those things defined him anymore, and it was strange, seeing what Ron meant when he had said he was always "the other brother" in regards to all of his siblings.

At least Ron was there. Harry was close to the entire Weasley family and he knew that even three years later, things were hard. Being with George was especially hard, even though every day seemed to make it more familiar for the remaining twin. Harry had enjoyed his period of recluse and had found it hard to reconnect with everyone else that had suffered loss, many of them more recently and less frequently than he, Harry, ever had.

"Want another cup?" Ron broke into Harry's thoughts. Harry looked up at Ron, completely bewildered, still stuck in the memories his mind was flying through, then down into his hands. The teacup was empty and he hadn't noticed.

"Sure, thanks." Harry smiled weakly as he handed over the cup to Ron.

"I'll make you some dinner too – you've got to be starving. I know I am," added Ron. Harry watched him as he got up and headed out of the room.

Unlike when Hermione had made him lunch, Harry didn't want to stay in bed. It no longer felt cozy, but more like a prison. With a great deal of effort, Harry tugged himself out of bed, pulled the quilt off the top, wrapped it around his body, and shuffled toward the main room of the flat.

Harry smelled the preparations Ron was making for a stew – they smelled rather good, he was somewhat surprised to notice. Ron really had gotten better at cooking.

Harry plopped himself down into a chair at the small dining table they had. Ron looked over and rolled his eyes. "What are you doing out of bed, Harry?" Then he laughed. "Sorry – it's just, you look even more bizarre for some reason."

"Why?" Harry murmured, not really anxious to know the answer.

"Something about that quilt makes you look even more dragon-like," Ron said, snorting with laughter. "Oh, that reminds me that Hermione suggested I take pictures."

"Merlin, I had hoped she'd have forgotten about that," said Harry with an exasperated sigh. His exasperation did little good though, as it prompted several sparking sneezes, which Ron found incredibly hilarious judging by his rousing chorus of laughter.

"Just get the camera and get it over with," said Harry resignedly once his body had calmed down again.

The stew was ready to simmer for a bit so Ron did as Harry suggested and ran into his room to fetch his camera. He came back moments later with a very large camera, complete with light bulb to flash – Harry knew muggle cameras were a bit more advanced, especially these days, but he understood the need for these more old-fashioned cameras to capture images to be properly developed into wizarding photos.

Ron set the camera up toward his eyes and looked in. "Smile, Harry!"

Harry grunted instead, but Ron took the photo anyway.

"Excellent, great face, Harry, exactly right for a dragon – angry."

"Just so long as these photos don't end up in one of those stupid tabloids," Harry muttered. "Y'know, the ones that follow all the most useless nonsense the wizarding world can think up."

"Depends on the price they offer," said Ron with a shrug. When Harry shot him a dark glance, however, Ron chuckled. "I'm only kidding – but I'm not going to promise these won't end up framed around the house or in a family photo album."

"You've got to be loving this, haven't you?" Harry said, but his tone was more playful. He didn't want to make Ron feel bad for poking fun at him. Harry probably would be teasing Ron too if he were the one covered in dragon pox.

"Hardly," said Ron as he took another photo. "It means I've got to tag team taking care of your sick ass." Harry rolled his eyes. "It is kind of refreshing to see the Boy Who Lived covered in dragon pox, though. Nice reminders that you're not invincible."

"Like I ever was…"

"I know, you still think it's all luck and chance and help from everyone else," Ron finished for Harry. He took one last photo and then set the camera down on the dining table. "But somewhere along the way, luck and chance and help from everyone else decided you were worth it."

Harry shrugged. It had been a while since he and Ron had talked about these things, maybe as long ago as that rousing row from a couple years ago. If he could have it his way, he'd avoid reliving his teenage years, considering how stressful and generally awful they had been in retrospect. But someone always wanted to talk about it and Harry figured Ron was just trying to find all the common ground he could with his best friend, who was special. Harry hated admitting it, but he was chosen – by the darkest wizard of all time, sure, but that only made it harder for others to understand just how little Harry liked it.

Harry considered biting his tongue, but perhaps it was the illness speaking because he couldn't stop himself blurting out, "Voldemort chose me – and I chose you."

Ron may have been turned around, having headed back towards the stove to attend to his stew, but Harry could still see his ears reddening. He didn't react or turn around though. Harry didn't really want to get into a deep discussion of their friendship again as it made him feel so awkward, but he really longed for Ron to understand the magnitude of his importance, at least to Harry and certainly to Hermione and his family.

"You know that I needed you," Harry continued, hesitation thick in his voice. Or was it how stuffed up his head felt? Regardless, he plowed on. "Even when it was me and Hermione, we could never match up to get what needed to be done without you. We're a team," Harry finished, and suddenly he felt his words were again more to himself.

He could feel heat rising in his face and he felt ashamed to have spoken this fear aloud, especially to the person he would've liked to talk about it with least of all.

Back in the old days, Harry felt Ron probably would have missed the entire point but maybe it was because of Hermione or maybe because they were all so much more grown up now, he knew Ron would pick it up.

Ron stirred the stew and, without turning around, spoke in a placating tone, "We're always going to be a team."

Harry felt even more embarrassed and perhaps in reaction began sneezing again, shooting sparks and moving the quilt away from the sparks' trajectory so he wouldn't start any unnecessary fires.

Deciding he'd much rather change the subject than try to continue down this path with Ron (since neither of them were good enough at expressing emotion properly, especially to each other) and knowing that Ron was right and he was being stupid trying to complicate things, Harry sniffed the air and commented, "That stew really smells spectacular."

Ron shrugged. "You probably only think so because you're sick."

Harry chuckled, coughed, and continued, "Maybe, but I doubt it. Either way I'm starving so whether that's good or not I suppose is irrelevant." He paused and pulled the quilt tighter around him. "But I'd bet a few galleons it's good."

Ron laughed. "I'd take that bet but then again, I wouldn't want to bet against myself – especially when it comes to my master chef abilities. You'll have to cherish the galleons you have and I'll cherish the ones I've worked for."

Harry joined in with Ron's laughter. He mentally noted how great it was to see Ron so casually discuss money, which used to be one of the sorest subjects. It probably didn't hurt that Ron was beginning a well-paid job and his entire family was finally doing much better financially.

Harry wouldn't dare bring any of that up, though. He was proud of Ron and of all the Weasleys and was so glad they had finally gotten the breaks they deserved, the jobs they were all qualified for, the money they worked hard for, and so many of their loved ones around them.

His mind jumped again to Fred, but Harry wouldn't let his mind go anywhere too dark right now. He shook his head gently, which made him feel dizzy.

"Stop doing that, sit still, and eat your stew," Ron interjected, setting down a bowl of stew in front of Harry. It really did smell fantastic. With no hesitation, Harry jumped right in and began devouring the food.

Ron sat across from Harry, hiding a slight grin of pleasure at how hungrily Harry was eating his food. Ron also dug into his stew, but much more gently and much less like a starving wild animal. It didn't take very long for both of the men to have cleared their bowls of any sign of deliciousness.

"Is there any left?" asked Harry, leaning back with a pleasurably full belly.

"Nah, we finished it, and good thing in my opinion since I am fuller than… well, something full."

Harry laughed and Ron kicked him under the table. "I lose my cleverness when I'm full," Ron objected.

"Since when do you have cleverness?" Harry teased.

"Since I nabbed the brainiest woman in the world to be my wife," Ron threw back.

"Fair enough."

Harry glanced around the main room, his eyes landing on the clock near the front door to the flat. It read around eight in the evening.

"Oh no… Ginny'll be here any minute," Harry groaned.

Ron's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why do you say that so disappointedly?"

Harry gave him an exasperated look between sneezes. "I feel bad that I'm so sick and will be awful company, that's why," he said, his voice hard.

"Hermione warned her, don't worry," Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. "Here, I'll clean up, you can maybe go get dressed in some real clothes before my sister shows her face." Ron picked up the bowls, waved his wand saying, "Scourgify!" and then putting the clean dishes back in their places.

Harry slowly made his way up, sluggish both from a fully stomach and an ailing body, and shuffled his way back into his room. He dropped the quilt into his bed and, with great effort, changed out of his nightclothes into a loose pair of trousers and one of the warm sweaters Mrs. Weasley had made for him over the years. If he remembered correctly, this had been from Christmas before last. It was hardly the most attractive thing he owned, but it was incredibly comfortable and Harry's mind was too foggy to really worry about this small part of his appearance considering the state of the rest of his body.

Completely drained of energy, Harry fell back onto his bed, curled up into the quilt, and was about to drift back off when he heard a knock at the door.

xxx

Sorry it took a bit longer than last time for this update, I had about half the chapter finished but it took some time to cap it off and figure where to leave it and all. As I mentioned before, I think there's about one more chapter in this story, though I might change my mind when I get to working on it. I'll let y'all know.

Thanks to all of you who are reading and I know a lot of you are considering all the story alerts I'm getting in e-mail, but I notice you all seem rather shy about actually reviewing and telling me your feeelings. Tell me all your feeeeeeelings and review, folks. It boosts my ego and my ego usually needs boosting.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry rolled back and forth on the bed to try and keep himself from falling asleep but he was far too comfortable to get up and go to the front door.

As if from miles away, Harry heard Ron open the door and the unmistakable squeak of Ginny Weasley being dragged into a hug by her brother.

"Merlin, Ron, it's great to see you too but get off!" Ginny said between giggles. Harry instantly sat up, as if Ginny's voice, beautiful and familiar, was calling to him. And then his head swam because his body really didn't appreciate that turn of events.

"Gin, you spend half your time avoiding bludgers and traveling abroad, it's damn good to see you and I won't allow you to question my excitement as your older brother!" Ron protested and Harry could hear Ginny squeal again as if Ron had hugged her even tighter.

"_Allow_ me!" Ginny said loudly, but unlike when she was younger and more defensive about being the baby of the family, this was played off like an old joke. "Ronald, you cannot _allow_ me to do anything, or _not_ allow me or what have you!"

"Yes I can!"

"No you can't!"

"No he can't!" Harry shouted now that his head was clearing up. His voice was hoarse but it was obvious Ginny and Ron had heard him from the sudden quiet that fell in the flat.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," said Ron. "Drop by Hermione's later, okay sis?"

"Will do." And with that, Harry heard the door close and the soft footsteps of Ginny make their way toward his bedroom.

"Now, now, didn't you promise me a nice quiet dinner out tonight, mister?" asked Ginny accusingly as she stood in the doorway.

Harry gazed at her, dumb-founded. He was sure he was blushing, being as disgusting as he surely was right now and seeing his gorgeous girlfriend in front of him. Despite the travel, Ginny was wearing lovely, creamy dress robes that fit her perfectly and allowed her stunning red hair to stand out, blazing, even more than usual. Her athletic physique from all her Quidditch playing was expertly shown off. Her brown eyes pored right into Harry's and he felt his heartbeat rise in pleasure at seeing the girl he'd been wanting to see for weeks.

However, being ill and foggy-brained and distracted by Ginny's beauty, Harry dumbly responded, "What, you still expect me to go out like this?"

Ginny answered him by swiftly stepping over to his bedside, softly taking his grisly face in her hands, and kissing him full on the mouth. Her taste… another thing Harry had missed about her.

She pulled away, her hands still on his cheekbones, and laughed. "Don't be such a dolt, Harry, of course not. I wouldn't make a poor sap like you go out right now. And from what I can gather, you've already eaten anyway."

Harry looked sheepishly at her. "Sorry, I couldn't wait. I'm, as you put it, a poor sap. I can't be responsible for what I do."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him and Harry smiled, chuckled, and then sneezed.

A spark flew out of Harry's nose and Ginny jumped back, a yelp of surprise escaping her mouth just as the spark caught on the collar of her dress robes.

"Oh Merlin's _balls_," Harry murmured as he grabbed for his wand, yelled, "Aguamenti!" and put out the fire before it gained any traction.

"Well, I guess even if I can't catch dragon pox, it can catch me!" Ginny shrugged and Harry laughed, prompting a few more sparking sneezes. Luckily, Ginny had moved well enough away to stay safe from the blasts.

"That joke was awful, Gin," chuckled Harry. She stuck her tongue out at him and Harry laughed again, harder, for a few moments before calming down. Ginny couldn't help but crack a smile amidst all the sneezes and sparks and laughs.

"Yeah, well, not every Weasley is a true jokester," said Ginny, somewhat sadly.

Harry sobered up quickly at that and reached his hand out for her to take. She did and Harry led her over to sit next to him on the bed. "And not every Weasley is you," Harry whispered in her ear.

Ginny couldn't help but giggle. "Y'know, Harry, I do care for you for more than your looks, but it is kind of hilarious seeing a person with dragon pox trying to be sexy."

Harry feigned a look of astonishment. "Try! There is no try here, dragon pox cannot stop me from being the attractive beast I am." Ginny gave him a look of suspicion and Harry shrugged. "What? I've got a sense of humor!" he protested.

"And normally you've got your fair share of looks, so I'll forgive you for that," muttered Ginny as she gave Harry a small peck on the lips. Then, she stood up. "So, this is our night and you're sick and clearly deprived of energy – what are we going to do?"

"I dunno," Harry said half-heartedly. "I'm really sorry I had to get sick the one night we get to ourselves every blue moon."

Ginny shrugged. "It's not like you could control it." She paused and threw a sly grin Harry's way. "Plus, the off-season's coming up and I'll be around more. Promise."

Harry sighed. It had been like this ever since they'd rekindled their relationship. Harry knew more than almost anything else that he wanted to be with Ginny. Whenever she was around, like now, he felt so right, so like himself. But they were both so wrapped up in their own lives that it felt more like a constant ache that they had to keep parting.

"What?" Ginny asked, concern and resignation in her voice. She knew him too well to not anticipate what was on his mind. She took up a slow pace around the room.

"I… I just miss you is all," Harry said, honestly.

"I'm right here, dummy," Ginny said, smiling and rolling her eyes.

"You know what I mean. I'm serious, Gin. I… I love you and it is awful how little time we get to spend together."

Ginny stopped where she was. Harry understood why. He'd never said he'd loved her before, not like this at least. And Merlin, was it the worst way to say it, buried as a nugget in a whole lot of whining. But it was all true, Harry did love her and he was feeling everything else as well.

"Harry –" she started, but Harry cut her off by standing up, slowly to avoid any dizziness.

"Ginny, I love you. I really wish we could spend more time together, and I know neither of us are willing to sacrifice our careers, and we shouldn't," Harry was rambling now, but he felt a sense of determination come over him and he knew exactly where this was going now. "I… I want you to move in. Here. With me."

Harry was inches from Ginny, his pockmarked green face and her freckled satiny skin. His eyes stared into hers and he saw her mouth drop open ever so slightly and a million thoughts run through her head.

"Harry, you're sick, I'm not sure if you're in your full mind about this…"

"No, Ginny, I'm sure. I know this is a really weird time to be suggesting this, but it really makes sense and I think it'd be a really good ide-"

Harry was cut off by a kiss filled with fervor and what he guessed to be a probable yes to his suggestion. Harry wrapped his hands around Ginny, feeling her body close to his, wanting this as often as possible…

Ginny pulled away from him. "What about Ron?"

"What about him?" Harry countered. "He practically lives at Hermione's, they're engaged, let's just kick him out and make him stay there permanently."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Good luck with that. I'm sure he'd be fine with that, but you know how rocky he still is about us and you are in no condition to take him in a fight." Harry mocked insult and Ginny giggled. "But seriously, Harry… I love you too."

The shy way in which she admitted it was nothing like her now, instead reminding Harry of the little ginger girl he had seen at Platform 9 and ¾ back on his first day at Hogwarts, the smallest of the Weasley bunch, just Ron's little sister, just a girl, but nowhere near just a girl anymore. Ginny was a woman – a strong, fierce woman, and she loved him and he loved her and that was practically everything to Harry right then and there.

"Good," said Harry, grinning stupidly before dissolving into a coughing fit and having to sit back down on the bed. Ginny sat down next to him, holding his shoulder as he shook with the force of the coughs.

After a minute or so, Harry spoke again, more delicately than he had in a while. "Gin, would it be a wasted night together if we just lie down together? I don't want you to leave but, well, I'm so drained."

Ginny smiled at Harry. "There's no way a night with you could be a night wasted. Especially considering I intend to spend many more nights with you." Harry gave her a bemused look as he slowly laid his head down on the pillow. "That is unsubtle code for, yes, I would love to move in, even if I may be a more absent flatmate than Ron. Despite that, knowing that I would come home to you when I was home, you first and you regularly… that's exactly what I want."

She snuggled behind Harry, her arms hugging his waist, her head leaning against his back, and Harry wrapped his hands in hers. "Well, the bright side is if you can love me like this, I'd like to think you can love me any way."

"Now, now, Harry Potter, don't you dare use this as an excuse to get fat and go bald," Ginny objected with a laugh.

Harry laughed with her, expelling his remaining energy, and with the feel of her familiar heat with him, he fell asleep, managing easily to ignore the pain, the itch, the exhaustion, just embracing how at peace he felt right now, and how important the one person still with him at the end of this test of a day was.

xxx

I know this is a bit of a shorter final chapter and I know it also took me months to find the time to churn it out, but here it is, the Ginny chapter at last. There's probably a lot more that could be done with this, so while I am declaring this the end for now, who knows? I could return to this fic.

I really appreciate everyone's patience and the feedback I've gotten and all the people who've come across this shindig. I hope you've all enjoyed the fic and share that enjoyment with me in the reviews!


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